


This is How it Feels

by AmunetMana



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A lot of denial from Steve, Death, Denial, M/M, PWP, Post-Movie, homophobic slur, post winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmunetMana/pseuds/AmunetMana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has spent so long searching for Bucky. Who would have thought Bucky would be the one to come to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is How it Feels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGoldenAppleofAsgard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenAppleofAsgard/gifts).



It came out of nowhere. One moment, alone, walking down the alleyway, the next pinned to the wall with wild, achingly familiar eyes boring into him. The Winter Soldier, _Bucky, Bucky, his name is Bucky_ …had their bodies pressed flush against each other. Steve let out a noise of discontent as he felt the hardness of Bucky’s leather-clad torso press even further into his stomach, clad only with a thin t-shirt. Steve struggled to move out of the death grip, but Bucky’s metal hand clamped down hard on his arm, pressing it back against the wall.

 

There was a new intensity in Bucky’s eyes. He’d looked intense before, he always had…focused on the matter at hand; focused on his mission, but…this was different. This was deep, and beyond any mission, beyond anything Steve had ever seen. There was something worshipful to it, and Steve flushed red as the thought crossed his mind.

 

Then he couldn’t think of anything, as the black mask was ripped away, and rough lips were pressed against his own, sucking and biting at soft flesh. A noise hitched in the back of Steve’s throat, as Bucky pulled back, only to devour the noise and returning again, again and again till Steve could feel his lips begin to swell, the tears spilling from his eyes. Through the bleary, tear induced haze, Steve though he could see something shining on Bucky’s cheeks. But it was dark. He could be mistaken.

 

He had been mistaken about so much else.

 

He choked on the tongue that was exploring his mouth as a knee pushed abruptly between his legs, and down hard on his member. He choked and opened his mouth wider, and only realised as there was a surge of excitement, a mouth tilted to press a warm tongue even further between his lips, that Bucky had taken it as encouragement.

 

Bucky. Oh, Bucky. His Bucky, his friend, at one point his everything. _Everything but this_ , Steve thought helplessly. This had never…this wasn’t Bucky. But it was, it _was_! As helpless as he thought he was, there was a nagging voice at the back of his mind. He could shove Bucky away. He could fight back. But this…Bucky had come to him. After so long, after searching for him all that time, and Bucky…had come to him. How could Steve possibly let him go?

 

Hands lifted, shaking, to press gently against mismatched arms, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut, relaxing and allowing the invasion into his mouth. His fingers tightened, feeling hard muscle, toned and familiar and cold metal in turn. The reaction was electric. Bucky pulled back so sharply Steve did cry out, to see Bucky staring at him, eyes wide and startled. His gaze tilted down to stare at the hand on his metal arm. A curtain of dark hair fell down, obscuring his face. Steve wanted, so abruptly, so ridiculously, to touch it.

 

Bucky released a frustrated noise, and for the first time since he’d ~~assaulted~~ _found, found him not assaulted it was Bucky Bucky wouldn’t -_ Bucky released Steve from on hand, and used his teeth to rip the glove free from his flesh hand.

 

Only to thrust it into Steve’s hair, a gesture that could have been so comforting, so kind…until fingers curled into claws, and Buck snapped Steve’s head back, arching him till he was looking to the sky, panting and shouting in pain. It was so distracting; Steve barely registered the pressure against his collarbone, the wet trailing up his throat. Until a new pain, sharp and sudden distracted him from the old. Steve keened out a high noise, as the grip in his hair tightened as Bucky continued to lavish attention on his neck, moving up to his jaw, soft kisses more agonising than any bite peppered between the more brutal attacks, soft and relentless. And Steve’s body was rocking, and why shouldn’t it be, assault on every other part of him, so why not, Bucky? Why not take it all?

 

Bucky’s mouth found the wet trail on Steve’s cheek, and something in his chipped and splintered at the feel of lips on his tears. Steve’s knees buckled and he crashed to the floor, Bucky falling with him, and hand on his hair released, only to cup the back of Steve’s head, resting it down gently. Bucky was above him, engulfing his space, and Steve suddenly felt like he’d never had the serum. Breathless, trembling, hidden like a waif of a boy in Bucky’s shadow.

 

He barely reacted as he felt metal fingers wind into the fabric of his shirt, ripping it away from his body, only to be replaced with gentle, careful hands.  Steve shivered at the touch of cold metal, and fully convulsed at the tickle of brown hair brushing across his stomach, and suddenly there was a warm, heavy presence on his chest. Flesh fingers were curled into his side, stroking absently at Steve’s skin. Steve could feel his own heartbeat, vibrating through Bucky’s body, that long hair he so wanted to touch splayed across his torso.

 

It was ridiculous. It was laughable. The Winter Soldier, a man made of myths, not moments ago biting and clawing to get what he wanted, was now…was seemingly tamed by a heartbeat. And still, Steve could not bring himself to move. The curl of fingers tickled, so did the hair. But…it was _Bucky._ It had always been Bucky.

 

Steve’s head fell back, and he swallowed back sobs. But just as he thought it was over, it must be over…he didn’t know if Bucky had sensed something, had felt Steve move, but suddenly there was a metal hand pressed hard against his crotch, and flesh fingers shoved into his mouth. Bucky never broke eye contact, not as he increased his pressure, not as he curled his fingers around Steve’s tongue. Maybe, Steve thought dizzily, he was going to steal Steve’s words. Pull his tongue out, keep it for himself, a souvenir, a trophy.

 

Steve didn’t know why to think anymore.

 

Perhaps that was why, even as his trousers were ripped away by the same metal grip, even as cold fingers were pressed down into his thighs…even as Bucky’s eyes left his, and a trail of burning heat was left by long hair still dancing across his skin, he stayed still. Even as he was pulled into a warm, far too accommodating mouth, even as his cheeks burned with shame, he let Bucky do what he wished.

 

_To the end of the line._

_I am your mission._

“What the what the hell are you fags doing?! You can’t just go aro-“

 

And Steve’s eyes shot open as a bang ran through the air, and the harsh voice was replaced by the sound of a body thudding to the ground. Bucky’s eyes were locked onto Steve’s features, drinking in the redness of his cheeks, stroking his stomach gently, even as his other hand held a smoking gun.

 

“Bu-“ the name was cut off into a strangled cry as Bucky’s head shot back down, gun discarded at his returned to his task. Steve moved now, shifting, moaning, burning in every part of his body. Dead. There was a dead man not ten metres from him. Dead, and Bucky pulled the trigger, and all because –

 

He cried out again as sharp teeth grazed across him, his eyes squeezing shut. Numb he may have been before, but now he’d been flooded with fear, every sensation a thousand times magnified in strength. Then Bucky was pulling back again, dragging Steve forward. And if he refused, would Bucky shoot _him_ in the head? Steve wondered desperately. Bruises were blossoming on his thighs where Bucky’s fingers were dug in, pulling Steve, and arranging him to his will.

 

For all he wished he wouldn’t, Steve moved slowly, coiling his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. Bare as he was, pressed once again tightly, to Bucky’s body, careful and adoring pressed to his neck, he wanted to know without all doubt that he didn’t want this. That he wanted to leave and refuse Bucky this attack. But, he thought desperately, winding his arms tighter around Bucky’s neck, pressing himself close, and listening to the little coos that could almost have been comfort intermingle with his sobs…

 

How could he deny Bucky anything?


End file.
